Every Savage Can Dance
by Idiot Jello
Summary: Dy doesn't dance, for more reasons than he just doesn't like it. Modern P&P. Oneshot. T, for a couple of words.


_"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies." _

_"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance."_

-Sir William Lucas and Mr. Darcy, respectively, Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

**Dy POV**

Tall. Blonde. Slut.

"No thank you."

Medium height. Blue-eyed. Drunk.

"No thanks."

Short. Pixie-like. Drunk _and_ a slut.

"Thanks, but no."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Are you gay? 'Cause I've been seeing you rejecting girls all night, and some of 'em were definitely prettier than me."

"_No_, I'm not gay." I say to her. She gives me a dubious look. "I just don't like to dance," I attempt to explain. She rolls her eyes and walks back to some other girl.

Apparently my lack of appearance on the dance floor is noticed by more than the girls at this party, for Randy swaggers up to me and says, "What's wrong with you, Dy? Why aren't you dancing?"

"I don't like to dance," I repeat. He knows that.

"Well, no shit," he jokes, "But usually you at least mingle, a bit. Tonight you're just…subdued."

I sigh.

"Come on, Dy!" Randy prods, grinning like a madman. I know that he won't stop pestering to me until I give.

I sigh again, but then say, "Well, I met this girl."

Randy throws back his head, letting out a rambunctious bark of a laugh. "_You_, stick-in-the-mud Dy, met a _girl_. Oh, this is _good_."

I roll my eyes at his antics. "I guess I kinda liked her—a lot." Ignoring his wide grin, I continue, "So I asked her out. And she sort of, well, I guess, said no." Even though it happened two months ago, there's still a distinct aching in my chest. I didn't just like her, I _loved_ her. Still do. Boy, I am such a pathetic bastard.

Randy is astonished. "She rejected you?!" Randy yells, with all the volume of seven exclamation marks. "Oh, that is bloody terrific. Dy, you're practically the Mr. Darcy of modern-day London, and this girl rejected you!" He laughs merrily.

"I am horrified that you've read that book." Is my sarcastic response.

"Right back at cha, mate," he grins. I hate Randy.

I guess my glare seemed to assure him of my sincerity, so he sobers up. "Did she give a reason? I mean, she must just be a heartless bitch if she _doesn't_ give a reason."

I cringe at Randy's calling her a bitch, but answer, "Well, she had three reason. One, that I was apparently a monster because of what some cashier at McDonald's told her. Two, because I had supposedly broken up her stepsister and a friend of mine. And three, because I was bastard."

"Well, I don't know about the first two but she's dead on with number three." I only glare at him, and then sigh.

"Wow, she really did make an impression on you, mate?" Randy asks. I nod miserably. There's a silence. Then he says, "Well, I met this girl, and I'd think you like her. So much you would like to dance with her."

I doubt that.

"Hey, Beth!" he calls out, and a brunette girl turns from a group of people a few meters away. Her dark eyes meet mine, lighting up with recognition.

Shit.

**Beth POV**

He's here. I tore his heart into a million tiny pieces, stomped on it, lit on fire for good measure and he's _here_ at this Goddamned party. I feel like such an awful bitch.

Randy smiles a stupid, oblivious smile and gestures to come over and 'meet' the guy standing next to him. Gingerly I walk up. Remain calm. Remain calm. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.

"Dy, this is Beth," says Randy, uselessly.

"Dy and I have already met," I tell him, trying to ignore the huge elephant that's sitting in front of me. Not Dy, I mean. Dy's not an elephant, literally. He's far too handsome to be an elephant. Randy, though…

"Hello Beth," says Dy, and I swallow, even though my mouth is dry.

"Hi."

Randy looks about confusedly. "Er, did I miss something?" I smirk. Boy, he can't even _comprehend_.

"Well, er…I am going…there, to get like, one of those tasty mini-cheeseburgers. They're really tasty, you know, if you take out the pickle and put it on top of the bun, and then pour some root beer on it," says Randy, realization starting to dawn on him as he walks away. I shake my head.

"So," says Dy, as eloquent and verbose as I remember him.

"You can't base an entire conversation on 'so', Dy," I say to him.

The right corner of his mouth quirks. "Really? The conversation could maybe be a contest to actually have a conversation based on monosyllabic words." I smile at the reference to a conversation a long time ago.

"That would be a contest, a conversation is a exchange where both parties offer an opinion and debate upon it."

"No, that's an argument," he says.

"No, 'argument' suggests anger and hostility. I may have misworded that sentence. A conversation is an exchange where two or more people express an opinion or experience, the others comment upon it, and then offer there own opinions and/or experiences."

"Do we need to find a dictionary?" he asks, a sardonic half-smile on his face.

"Perhaps," I say, smiling. He's smiling too, and I'm enjoying the moment. There's no awkwardness.

"Dy, I'm sorry," I blurt out suddenly. His smile shifts into a painful grimace. "I—well, Wes is a jerk, but a convincing one at that. And Brittany and Brian, well, I understand that too. It's just…" I find my eyes on the floor. I look back to him. "I—I'm sorry. I was bitch, and…I'm just _really_ sorry."

**Dy POV**

I know I should say something like 'It's wasn't your fault' and 'I forgive you' or something like that. Hell, I should say _anything_ before this beautiful girl disappears, but I can't. I just can't.

"Dy?" she looks at me helplessly. I can't find any words to day to her. Beth licks her lips, inhales, and exhales, her shoulders rising and falling.

"I see," she says after a while. "I-I guess I should've seen this coming." She meets my gaze, her eyes strangely transparent. "Uh, bye." She turns to leave.

No.

I grab her forearm unthinkingly. She whips her head back to look at me, startled.

"Beth," I say, a smile beginning to form on my mouth, "Would you like to dance?"

* * *

_A/N: And there's just a little piece of fluff for your enjoyment. _

_If you really couldn't guess, the characters are as follows:_

_Dy, aka 'stick in the mud' -- Mr. Darcy_

_Randy, aka 'mini cheeseburger-lover' -- Colonel Fitzwilliam_

_Wes, aka 'McDonald's cashier' -- Mr. Wickham_

_Brittany, aka 'stepsister' -- Jane Bennet_

_Brian, aka 'friend of Dy' -- Mr. Bingley_

_Beth, aka 'the girl' -- Elizabeth Bennet_

_Reviews make my day. =)_

Idiot Jello~


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